Ending the First Wizarding War
by Burnt Ash
Summary: The First Wizarding War ended on October 31st, 1981 with the tragedy of the Potters. But every end has to start somewhere, and not all wars end in triumph. This is a story about the end of the first war and its consequences seen through the eyes of those involved. Unfortunately, the end was a puzzle no witch or wizard understood...until it was too late.


Chapter I: A Whole, Loving Family

August 11th, 1981.

Their family was going to be complete; it was going to be perfect, happy, energetic, and above all, even more loving, if that were possible. The weather seemed to accomodate for these feelings as well. At the moment, it was evening in Ottery St. Catchpole, and the sky was a glorious red. It reflected with a sort of wonder upon the crooked, patched-up, rugged house, countless stories high, and appeared to be on the verge of tipping. Its posture was magical in a way. Shouts could be heard from the family garden as four red-headed boys were flying (as high as toy brooms could let them) with a sort of gleeful joy.

"Bill! Charlie! Quit making such a racket! I'm trying to read _Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump_! I can't read with you two hollering every two seconds!"

The fifth boy, Percy Weasley, was not pleased with his brothers at the moment. Well, most of them, anyway; not all of them could talk. He himself was four years old, and had little tolerance for roughhousing, screaming, and other boisterous nonsense. He was his mother's son through and through, right down to his temperance.

One the boys, Bill, stopped in midair, wheeled around and screamed in response, "We're sorry, Perce, won't happen again!" Bill grinned, and Percy scowled. If it were up to him, he'd be curled up in the sitting room and would be reading his collection of Beedle the Bard stories in peace, for he had been learning how to read, and was eager to develop this beautiful talent. Really, it was only because his father had told him to that he was sitting out here in the first place. Something important was happening, he had told everyone, and Bill (the eldest) was to be in charge outside. Unfortunately for Percy, Bill being in charge did not lead to his beloved quiet, and had instead resulted in this cacophonous racket. Percy, still glaring at his brothers' retreating figures, picked up his things, and moved to another part of the lawn, in search of a new quiet place.

Percy's temperance however, did not extend to the rest of the family. He was, in many ways, an outsider: an introverted young boy in a house with boisterous, socially energetic brothers. Bill and Charlie, the eldest boys of the family, were trying (and failing) to teach the twins, Fred and George, how to play Quidditch. Fred and George were eager enough to be sure, but they were only three, and following directions wasn't something they were very much accostomed to. Eight year old Charlie was growing frustrated, for Bill had just taken a (seemingly misfired) Quaffle to the head. "George! You don't throw the Quaffle at the Keeper! Throw it in the hoop!"

George, seemingly unhappy at being reprimanded, innocently called out "'M Fred!" Fred glared at his twin at this shift in blame. Charlie groaned, and put his head in his hands. This Quidditch session was not going well at all. Fred and George just seemed to be more interested in having fun on their own rather than listen. Bill and Charlie were determined though, and mark their words, Fred and George were going to shoot one goal by the end of this day.

So went this typical day of the older Weasley children: screaming, shouting, spinning, racing on brooms, or in Percy's case, reading. They were a peaceful bunch, carefree. Innocent, they were. It would be years before they would know that outside the walls of the Burrow's security, a war was brewing dreadfully; one family, just as loving and innocent as this one, would be torn apart in two and a half months. War, and the price of it, was something that only Arthur and Molly Weasley, their parents, could begin to grasp.

A few hours passed like this when the Weasley patriarch called the boys in. Percy practically ran, pleased to reunite himself with the quiet sitting room at last.

Bill was impatient, "Where's mum?" He, unlike the other boys, knew that the "something important" concerned his mother, and was eager to hear what had happened, for his father looked beyond happy. Exhausted, but delighted all the same. Suddenly, a wail pierced the walls of the Burrow.

"Arthur!" shouted a voice somewhere above, "That's Ronald! Give him something to eat! Try apple sauce, that should calm him down!"

Mr. Weasley sighed, told Bill to take his brothers to eat food in the kitchen, and dashed upstairs to console the wailing Ronald, the youngest of the Weasley children. Until today. However, that thought had not struck the others.

Bill shouted, "Percy, suppertime!"

"Later!"

"Now!"

"I'm on the last page, please!"

"Now!"

"Almost done! Death is trying to find the third brother!"

"I'll give your book to Fred and George!"

At this, there was a pounding of steps, and Percy reappeared, looking grumpy. "Not fair, I just had a page left, what don't you get about 'almost done'?"

Bill looked at Percy apologetically before saying, "Sorry Perce, Dad's orders. It's time for supper, and then we're gonna get an explanation."

Percy simply harrumphed and marched into the kitchen, Fred and George carrying a marker behind him.

"Charlie, Percy, set the tables. Fred, George, I saw the marker, now sit down!" Fred and George grinned identically and obeyed for Percy now unknowingly bore unintelligible scribbles on the back of his shirt.

The boys were starving. Hours of being outside had made them tired, and they ate rather quickly. The kitchen reflected the state of the house, an outsider might call it ragged, dusty, or perhaps unkempt. That wasn't exactly true. The house was old, yes. Yet, there was a sort of unusual brilliance in the room; pots and pans floating around cleaning themselves, a clock monitoring all the Weasley Children, an old, rather wobbly table, and the area itself was small. Not too small, but small enough so that one could call it...cozy. A home, in other words. Cozy, small, lively, cheerful. It was the heart of the house, and it was certainly healthy enough for the nine of them.

The Weasley boys were eating in relative silence until Bill pointed out, "You know, I know mum normally cooks and it's great, but dad's got a great chicken soup, don't you think?"

Fred and George nodded while Charlie perked up and suggested, "Maybe dad can cook some later?"

Percy looked at him in disbelief while Bill scoffed, "Ha! He's tried before remember? Normally mum screams at him to get out, so I think this is a one time deal."

Charlie looked somber. "I really, really, really like this chicken soup though." Upon hearing this, the boys heard a chuckle. They turned around in their seats; their father was standing behind them.

"Percy, you've scribbles on your back." Percy turned around and saw that the back of his shirt had been tainted with a mixture of red and black marker. Fred and George were struggling to hide their laughter; teasing their brother brought them immense fun, especially when it was Percy.

Percy was indignant,"Dad! Fred and George are annoying me again!"

The twins shouted in unison, "We don't _try..._" Percy snorted, went red in the face, and went back to his soup. Their father looked sternly upon Fred and George now, and they had the sense to look shame-faced, if only half-seriously.

There was a prolonged silence while the Weasley boys ate, broken when Mr. Weasley replied to an earlier conversation, "You know, your mother gave me the recipe. It won't be the last time you see it, I reckon."

At this, Bill and Charlie's faces brightened as they resumed eating. Several minutes passed in silence again, until Charlie broke it, "So, what's been going on all day, dad?"

Mr. Weasley brightened at the question, but seemed to find it difficult to explain to the kids. He opened his mouth, and then promptly closed it, teetering on the verge of speech. Bill intervened his routine, struck by a sudden epiphany, "Wait, wait, wait. Do we..." Bill was finding it difficult to put his thoughts into words. "Do we...have a new brother? That's it right? You were telling me."

Mr. Weasley smiled at this, but something in Bill's sentence made him laugh. The boys were rather bewildered. After a few seconds, Mr. Weasley found his voice, "N-not a new brother." Bill and Charlie's faces dropped, and Mr. Weasley added hastily, "A sister. You have a sister!"

Bill looked shocked, but it quickly became a grin. "Can we name her? Please?" Charlie and Percy nodded vigorously beside him. Mr. Weasley smiled and shook his head.

"We already named her. Ginevra. Ginevra Molly Weasley."

Bill and Charlie groaned, and Charlie asked half-seriously of his father, "Oh come on dad, what's with the old-fashioned names? I mean, William, Charles, Percival, Ronald..."

Mr. Weasley shook his head "There's nothing wrong with 'old' fashioned names Charlie. Anyway, I daresay you guys'll find a nickname for her eventually. I mean, you're Charlie, William is 'Bill', Percival is 'Percy', and you call Ronald 'Ron'." Charlie gave a noncommital shrug, and went back to eating. After a long silence, they heard a short cry, except it wasn't the one they've come to expect from Ron; it was higher pitched...and not as prolonged.

The boys perked up at this. "Can we see her? Pleaaaaase?"

Mr. Weasley smiled and nodded his head, and without a second's hesitation, the boys dashed upstairs, leaving their beloved chicken soup half-empty. The Burrow was a largely vertical structure, so the boys went up stair after stair, practically trampling on each others' feet as they raced toward their mother's room.

The boys were screaming "Mum! Mum!" Mr. Weasley suddenly looked stern. "Your mother's tired. Don't make her distressed." The boys nodded vigorously.

The boys were shaking in anticipation. Two of them, Bill and Charlie, had remembered this wonderful sensation last year when they were told that they had a new brother, Ronald (Ronniekins, to Bill and Charlie). To Fred, George, and Percy, this was something new. Fred and George were too young to run up and see Ron when he was born, and Percy found the event hard to remember; he had been only three.

The five Weasley boys opened the door, and were struck with a sort of awe, the awe you might expect of little children watching their baby siblings. Ginevra was small, for one thing. She was smaller than Ron had been when he was born, Bill remembered. Yet the strange thing was, she was remarkably quiet, no longer crying as they had heard before. _"Not at all like Ron," _Bill thought. Then he looked up at his mother and found her smiling weakly at the crowd before her. He wanted desperately to hold his new sister, but knew what the answer would be. He remembered asking the same question when Ron, Fred, and George were born, and the answer was always "You're too young, Bill."

"Gineea...Ginny." Bill looked around in confusion, as did the rest of the family. They noticed Fred standing there with an odd look in his face. He stamped his foot in frustration. "I can't say the name," he whined. He certainly looked put out. He could say Ronald well enough, and here was his own baby sister, and he couldn't pronounce her name.

Bill, however, was curious, "Say that again, Fred?"

Fred looked at him strangely, wondering if he was sensing frustation, and repeated "Ginny." _I daresay you guys'll find a nickname for her eventually._ 'Ginny.' The name seemed to work, and Bill rather liked it. He mulled it around in his head a few times, just like he tried when saying 'Percy' or 'Ron'.

"That's it! That's what we can call her! Ginny!" Bill looked proud of himself, the other children grinned, and their parents smiled and looked affectionately at their newest family member, who was currently moving her hands around in the air, trying to reach for her mother's nose.

The Weasley matriarch, Molly, looked at the scene, smiling inside. It warmed her so, the thought of nine Weasleys. Already the bond between the older boys were unbreakable, and she was sure that Ron and Ginny would fit in perfectly as well, once they could walk, talk, run, and play. She and Arthur cared for them fiercely; it was, in her opinion, a perfect family: a family that she would always treasure. Bill...Bill was ten, and in one year he would be off to Hogwarts, and she knew that it would kill her to let him go. And then Charlie, two years younger would be off to learn and grow up. Then Percy, then Fred and George, then 18-month old Ron, then the new-born Ginny. Her mind went into over drive, thinking of the perfect family she had now, and envisioning with pride, the prospect of the future. Childhood, school, work, marraige, grandchildren..._her _family, and she'd see them all grow up and live. The sheer thought of it made her shine with pride and joy. Mrs. Weasley looked up at Arthur, and the wide smile on his face told her that he was thinking the same. _Our _family, and while there was a war (a terrible one) going on outside, beyond the red setting sun, Arthur and Molly Weasley were quite possibly the happiest people in the planet at this moment. Family and future. The two seemed to go hand in hand.

-  
Next: Chapter II: The Beginning of the End: The Dilemma of Severus Snape (October 16th, 1981)


End file.
